The French Twins | Page 7

will
remember that it was a girl who once saved France, and meet
misfortune bravely, like our blessed Saint Jeanne d'Arc."
The Cathedral organ had ceased to fill the great edifice with sweet and
inspiring sounds. Instead, there now was only the muffled tread of
marching feet, the rumble of heavy wheels, and the low, ominous
beating of drums to break the stillness.
Mother Meraut and the children waited obediently in the chapel,
scarcely breathing in their suspense, while Father Varennes went
tap-tapping up and down the aisles eagerly watching for the Abbe to
reappear. At last he came. Mother Meraut, the Verger, and the children
all crowded about him, waiting breathlessly for him to speak.
The Abbe was pale, but his voice was firm. "I have been to the north
tower," he said, "and there I could see for miles in every direction. Far
away to the east and north are massed the hordes of the German Army;
they are coming toward Rheims as a thunder- cloud comes rolling over
the sky. Between us and them is our Army, but alas, their faces are
turned this way. They are retreating before the German hosts! Already
French troops are marching through Rheims; already the streets are
filled with people who are fleeing from their homes for fear of the
Boche. Unless God sends a miracle, our City is indeed doomed, for a

time at least, to wear the German yoke."
He paused, and the children burst into wild weeping. Mother Meraut
hushed them with comforting words. "Do not cry, my darlings," she
said. "God is not dead, and we shall yet live to see justice done and our
dear land restored to us. The soldiers now in the streets are all our own
brave defenders. We shall be able to go in safety, even though in
sorrow, to our homes."
"Come," said the Abbe, "there is no time to lose. Our Army will,
without doubt, make a stand on the plains west of the City, and it will
not be long before the Germans pass through. You must go to your
homes as fast as possible. Henri, you remain here with your Jean, that
you may meet any of the parents who come for their children. Tell
them I have gone with them myself and will deliver each child safely at
his own door."
"I can take cart of my own," said Mother Meraut. "You need have no
fear for us."
"Very well," said the Abbe, and, calling the rest of the children about
him, he marched them down the aisle and out into the street.
Mother Meraut followed with Pierre and Pierrette. At the door they
paused and stood for a moment under the great sculptured arches to
survey the scene before them. The great square before the Cathedral
was filled with people, some weeping, others standing about as if dazed
by sorrow. Between the silent crowds which lined the sidewalks passed
the soldiers, grim and with set faces, keeping time to the throbbing of
the drums as they marched. Above the scene, in the center of the square,
towered the beautiful statue of Jeanne d'Arc, mounted upon her charger
and lifting her sword toward the sky.
"Ah," murmured Mother Meraut to herself, "our blessed Maid still
keeps guard above the City!" She lifted her clasped hands toward the
statue. "Blessed Saint Jeanne," she prayed, "hear us in Paradise, and
come once more to save our beautiful France!"
Then, waving a farewell to the Verger and Jean, who had followed
them to the door, she took her children by the hand and plunged with
them into the sad and silent crowd.

II. ON THE WAY HOME
For some time after leaving the Cathedral, Mother Meraut and the

Twins lingered in the streets, forgetful of everything but the retreating
Army and the coming invasion. Everywhere there were crowds surging
to and fro. Some were hastening to close their places of business and
put up their shutters before the Germans should arrive. Some were
hurrying through the streets carrying babies and bundles. Others were
wheeling their few belongings upon barrows or in baby-carriages. Still
others flew by on bicycles with packages of clothing fastened to the
handle-bars; and there were many automobiles loaded to the brim with
household goods and fleeing families.
Doors were flung open and left swinging on their hinges as people
escaped, scarcely looking behind them as they fled. These were
refugees from Rheims itself. There were many others wearily plodding
through the City, people who had come from Belgium and the border
towns of France. Some who had come from farms drove pitiful cattle
before them, and some journeyed in farm wagons, with babies and old
people, chickens, dogs, and household goods mixed in a heap upon
beds